


Live and Electric (In Any Medium)

by Filmsterr



Category: Crooked Media RPF
Genre: Lovett or Leave It, Not-so-Straight Shooter, Pod Save America, lol
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-04
Updated: 2019-01-04
Packaged: 2019-09-23 07:18:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17075840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Filmsterr/pseuds/Filmsterr
Summary: "Do you think they knew?" He asks, interrupting the flow of what could have been a good old fashioned solid makeout session, "Could they tell?""Ugh, you talk so much,” Lovett pulls back with a groan, perching himself onto his elbows so he hovers over his boyfriend. His tone softens. "I don't know. I hope so. I like the thought of the largest possible group of people knowing that the great Ronan Farrow has plucked me from the masses."





	Live and Electric (In Any Medium)

The minute they tumble in the doorway, ties loosened and shoes hastily kicked away at the threshold, Ronan strikes out an arm and pulls Jon into him achingly. He'd wanted to this from the minute they left the stage, wanted to grab Jon and kiss that dumb smirk off of his face right in front of the whole panel.

But he saved it. Saved it for right now.

"Isn't someone a little worked up?" Lovett huffs against his lips, trying to slip his arms out of his jacket sleeves without disconnecting from Ronan. 

"I can't help it," he answers with what little breath he has. His hands stroke gently up and down Jon's bare arms, relishing the brush of light hair against his finger tips. "You were so... I've watched you before from the sidelines, but getting to be apart of it. You were so-"

His words are cut short by Lovett's lips, wrestling with his own. The man definitely has a light kink for compliments, that's a damn fact. 

"You were pretty charming yourself, kid."

He chooses to overlook the patronizing nickname, too caught up in the tingling of his lips. 

"Nowhere near as good as you. The crowd loves you."

Lovett looks poised to quip something in return, but he holds his tongue. He stares, seemingly unblinking, his eyes such a dark shade of brown that they look almost black. It's jarring, if not a little sexy, and it pulls Ronan in with his tongue and teeth and everything else, until he's got Jon just where he wants him- namely, pressed up against the wall of the foyer. 

As things are climbing to a steamy point of no return, a tiny yowl interrupts them from the floor. Ronan reluctantly allows himself to pull back enough for Jon to peer down at their feet dramatically and sigh, "Are you kidding me? You _just_ went outside." Pundit only stares up at them with her signature angelic expression. She yips again. Jon shakes his head. "Ugh, women."

"Misogynist," accuses Ronan. 

"Only situationally. In this situation, I'm being cock blocked by a real bitch."

Ronan chuckles softly and dips his head away. If he doesn't put some space between his lips and Jon's, he'll never be able to stop. "Go ahead and take her out. I'll be waiting."

Jon's plump mouth drops open in a show of faux-horror. "Wow. Not even a feigned offer to do it yourself. You're a deadbeat dad, Farrow."

Ronan decides to go for coy here. He steps back, swiveling on his heels and heading toward the bedroom. "Don’t be too long, Jonathan," he toys, turning the corner and walking out of sight before he even sees Jon reaching for a leash.  

It takes about ten minutes, at least three of which are spent griping and grumbling, for the two of them to come back. Jon trudges into the bedroom without looking up. 

Ronan, already stripped down to boxers and a light t-shirt, sits up in bed to ask, "Do you think we had chemistry?"

Maybe it's crazy. Maybe he's putting a little too much thought into all this. But it was his first time out in public like that, in Jon's arena, and it was nothing less than terrifying to have so many people watching him. Watching them. 

Jon moves over to the dresser, divesting his pockets of their contents. "How could we not? We're fucking, of course we have chemistry."

Ronan huffs out a breath as his eye roll to the ceiling. It's one of his rare moments of dramatic flair. "Why do you have to make it about fucking?"

At that moment, rather suddenly, Jon hops onto the bed and starts crawling up towards Ronan. "Maybe that's what's on my mind," he says, sexy and engaging and so many things Ronan isn't sure he'd ever know how to be. 

Despite himself and the redness burning his cheeks, Ronan breathes a whispered, "Yeah?"

"Yeah."

He lets himself be romanced, relaxing into the embrace as Jon's hands wander over his body expertly, with precision timing, much like everything he does. 

But still, he can't stop the whirring of his mind. 

"Do you think they knew?" He asks, interrupting the flow of what could have been a good old fashioned solid makeout session, "Could they tell?"

"Ugh, you talk so much,” Lovett pulls back with a groan, perching himself onto his elbows so he hovers over his boyfriend. His tone softens. "I don't know. I hope so. I like the thought of the largest possible group of people knowing that the great Ronan Farrow has plucked me from the masses."

Ronan pins him with a look, but doesn't say anything. Jon knows it's not like that- but he jokes anyway. He always jokes about things that aren’t really laughing matters, things that are definitely real and genuine concerns, but that he treats with faux-casualness. There's no stopping him, and Ronan knows, he's been trying for years. 

One day Jon Ira Lovett will come to see that he's the real catch of this relationship, that Ronan is the one punching above his weight. 

For that exact reason, he also finds himself a little amused at the idea of their attraction being made public. He feels a little tickled at the idea of the audience being able to read it on them. It goes against every professional instinct he has, all of which tell him that his personal life should be buttoned up and locked away, for him and him alone. He's learned as much from watching what his mother has been through, let alone the rest of his extended family. 

But still, some part of him, some surface-level part that's still giddy in love with this self-deprecating man- that part likes the idea of everyone being in on the secret. Of it being clear as day that he belongs to Jon and Jon to him. It's not that he needs anyone's approval, per se... but, well, it's still nice to hear. 

"I'll bet they're tweeting about it right now. Probably having a field day with your little soundbite about my cold, dead heart." Jon punctuates the last three words with three separate bites to Ronan's shoulder. 

"I was teasing," the blonde blushes again, flustered, "I think that came across. Right?"

Jon plants his mouth firmly on Ronan's. "Yes. Stop overthinking." He kisses across the other man's jawline for a few moments, before he pops his head up once more and declares, "You know, reflecting on it now, I hope that they didn't pick up on it."

Ronan's brow furrows. "Really?"

He doesn't blame Jon for wanting to keep things professional. He certainly doesn't take it as a personal offense, even if his mouth does curl down in a dissaproving pout.

A pout which Jon's fingers soon find, and run themselves over the course pinkness there with a loving playfulness. "Yeah. I'm finding the idea of a clandestine love affair pretty hot." He proves his point by sliding his crotch against Ronan's legs. 

And from that point all thoughts of anyone or anything outside the bedroom is completely lost. 

"Why are you still wearing jeans?" pants Ronan, again aching with the want to reach out and touch, to take. 

"Because I am an old fool. And because you made me take the damn dog out."

"Take them off. I want you to fuck me."

Jon always has a snappy comment ready, even in the heat of things. It's a quality that has its moments of good and bad. But sometimes, on rare occasions, he can level his boyfriend with a single, certain look that makes him zip it up and stay on task. 

This is one of those occasions.

"Okay," Jon says, simply enough, and hops off of the mattress to wrestle his pants off. Ronan watches and feels his heart pattering in his chest. He considers himself lucky to have Jon for a multitude of reasons, most circling around his wit and intelligence and the things that go with it. But he also finds him so incredibly sexy. Lovett thinks he's kidding or teasing, and he always points out the perceived physical inequity of their relationship. But Ronan is completely sincere. Right now, watching Jon fumble out of his clothing, his body soft and supple and pliant, he's more turned on than he ever has been by any hard-bodied hunk. 

It seems crazy that they could have been a part of each others' lives for so many years, and things can still feel so fresh. Every kiss is like their first. Every touch is like new.

That's why the dangling of their public life ignites such a fire in Ronan. Part of him wants to scream it out, tell everyone, send a million tweets and posts about every flaw and quirk that makes Jon Lovett the only man he ever wants to be with. 

The other part likes keeping this thing all to himself. 

Tonight, he'll keep it to himself. 

**Author's Note:**

> **Prompt:**
> 
>  
> 
> Ronan and Jon, post Ronan’s appearance on Lovett of Leave it, discussing while hooking up at home their on stage banter and if the audience knew they were together


End file.
